Burn the Past to the Ground
by Aerial312
Summary: A tag to "Till Death Do Us Part". Tony and Ziva in the aftermath of the explosion.
1. Chapter 1

_"Zoom in as they burn the past to the ground and feel the heat of the future's glow" –RENT_

In the confusion of the explosion, Tony vaguely remembered smacking his head on the side of the elevator as Ziva tackled him to the ground. Something had set off her super ninja senses before he was aware it had started. They landed in a heap on the cold metal floor, and he struggled to keep his arm around her as the small enclosure shook with the force of the blast. Somewhere in their fall to the ground, their hands met, and he clung tight to that as well, a security blanket as everything around them went to hell.

Thud. Thud. Several large pieces fell beside them. He tightened his grip on her waist as the debris rained down on them, filling the air with dust and the acrid smell of burning brick and metal. Ziva curled her head against his neck, shielding her face from the falling wreckage.

He cried out as a big chunk of the metal ceiling slammed down on the arm he had wrapped around his partner. She exhaled loudly as the impact forced the air out of her lungs.

The lights above them arced and shot out a few sparks, and then they were plunged into darkness. The deafening noise of the explosion gave way to an eerie quiet within the confines of the elevator. In the distance he could hear sirens and knew there must be a huge commotion outside as the catastrophe that has just happened was processed. Right now though, in the elevator, all Tony could think about was the woman breathing heavily, sprawled on top of him.

"You okay?" he managed, still holding her tightly with his throbbing arm.

"Yes," she winced. She sounded about as okay as he was, but a bit of pain was nothing compared to what could have happened. "You?" she asked.

"Yeah…" he answered, sounding as unconfident as she had.

Her breath was warm against his throat, if a bit choppy, and he took comfort in that. They were both alive and breathing, and that was most important. A nagging question loomed in his mind: what about the rest of the team? After another moment of lying there in silence, Ziva released his hand and gingerly began to push herself up off of him.

She groaned. "This—" He could not see her in the darkness, but he heard her kick angrily at the ceiling piece that had fallen on them. "—knocked the…breath out of me."

"Wind," he chuckled softly, pushing himself to sitting. That wasn't as difficult as he'd figured it would be…

"But it was the air in my lungs. My breath. There is no wind," she argued.

He slid closer, their thighs now touching. It made him feel better to be physically in contact with her once again. "The expression is _getting the wind knocked out of you_."

"I see."

He reached out to pat her leg and a sharp pain shot down his arm. He hissed in pain, retracting his arm and cradling it to his chest.

Ziva rounded on him immediately. "You said you were okay—"

"Yeah, I'm alive," he countered sharply, "and not, like, gushing blood. But this—" he gestured his left wrist, "—it's probably broken—or at least badly bruised."

"So are my ribs," Ziva admitted. "From this same damn tile that _knocked the wind out of me_".

He nodded, smiling as she over-enunciated the new phrase. He had figured she was hurting from that too. "Now, how do we get out of here?" he sighed, fishing his phone from his pocket with his good hand. The small screen provided some light, illuminating the debris around them, as well as a gaping hole in the ceiling of the car. Somehow, the floor and walls had remained intact.

"Shine that up again," she ordered. "I cannot tell if we are closer to the second floor or the ground floor."

He looked up, squinting to make out anything in the dim light. "Me either. Do you think it's safe to stand up?"

Further exploration was cut off by the phone in his hand ringing. "Boss," he quickly answered. "We're okay—Ziva and I—the elevator—I'm gonna put you on speaker." He pressed the button and held the phone between them.

Ziva leaned in and asked the question he was dreading. "The rest of them team? How are they?"

"Abby's with me," Gibbs answered. "A little cut up—really shaken—but she's gonna be okay. The paramedics are patching her up right now."

"McGee?" Ziva asked.

"We're still looking for him," Gibbs answered grimly.

"Vance?"

"Cut up, but safe." His phone beeped. "I've got a call coming in…from…Palmer? Hunh. I'm gonna answer this. We'll get someone in to you two as soon as possible. Don't do anything stupid." And with that he hung up.

"So we wait," Tony sighed. "For now at least, yeah? Probably better to not mess with whatever the hell is up there?"

Ziva nodded. "Hopefully, they find McGee soon…" she crawled around to his other side as she continued. "I mean, certainly there are casualties. You do not have an explosion of that magnitude so close to a building and not have any casualties…" She settled beside him, and curled into his side. He wrapped his good arm—now understanding why she'd moved over—around her shoulders. She was more shaken by the whole thing than she had let on right so far.

"We can't dwell on that—" he tried.

"We have nothing else to dwell on! We are trapped."

He sighed and pressed his lips to the top of her head, giving her shoulders a squeeze. "Why do you think Palmer was calling Gibbs? Shouldn't he be saying 'I do' right now?"


	2. Chapter 2

_PREVIOUSLY: ""Why do you think Palmer was calling Gibbs? Shouldn't he be saying 'I do' right now?" _

He felt Ziva tip her head to look at him. "What time _is_ it?" she asked.

Tony woke up his phone. "10:30," he answered.

"The wedding was not until 2—"

"But why is _Palmer_ calling _Gibbs_? Ducky calling Gibbs, I wouldn't think twice, but Palmer?"

"That is odd," she said.

"Now I'm curious," Tony told her, "But something tells me Gibbs wouldn't appreciate a call back about that."

"Probably not, she agreed. "He will call us back if it is important." She let her head settle back into a more comfortable position on his chest.

"Leave it to Gibbs to know we were examining the elevator shaft right when we called," Tony chuckled.

"What do you mean?" Ziva asked.

"He told us not to do anything stupid, and I think us trying to get out on our own sure qualifies as stupid."

"I do not like just sitting here," Ziva mumbled into his jacket.

"You are hurt—"

"Not—"

"I am hurt. They know we're here." He rubbed her back gently with the heel of his good hand.

"What the problem?"

She didn't answer him, twisting one of the buttons of his dress shirt. He let a moment go by in silence—as silent as it could be with the increasing sirens and hubbub of people both outside and in. Something had her on edge, and he couldn't quite place it at first, till he remembered how much she disliked small, enclosed spaces. As usual, she didn't want to talk about it.

The dust in the air tickled his throat, launching him into a spasm of coughing. "Ugh," he moaned. "This dust." Another coughing fit took over, and he tried hard not to jostle her too much. The coughing sure didn't help the dull headache he had. He whimpered in pain.

Ziva instantly pulled away from his side and knelt facing him. She took her jacket off and held it out to him. "Breathe through the fabric—"

"I don't need—" But speaking aggravated the tickle in his throat, making him cough once again.

"Stop talking, and breath through the damn fabric," she told him forcefully.

He took the offered blazer and held it in place with his good arm, breathing through the thick fabric that smelled like her.

After a minute she asked, "Better?", reaching out to pat his cheek. She let her hand linger. His eyes drifted closed as she leaned into her gentle touch. "Are you more hurt than you are telling me?" she asked quietly.

His eyes snapped open at the tone of her voice and he shook his head, trying—and failing—not to wince.

"Your head?" she asked. Her hand travelled up to his hair, feeling his scalp methodically.

"What are you-?"

"Feeling for blood."

"I don't think there is any. I hit it when you tackled me down, but I wasn't knocked out so—"

"When I tackled you?" she asked.

"Those ninja senses—"

"I fell into you when the blast started."

Huh. He was sure she pushed him down. "I thought you'd sensed something I hadn't." His eyes had adjusted to the low light now to the point where he could just make her out in the darkness.

She shook her head. "No, I could not keep my balance."

"I'm used to those super ninja senses feeling things I don't."

"Not this time," she sighed. "You hit your head?"

"Not that hard. Isn't that what you tell me all the time?" She glared at him in response. He reached up and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently and stroking her palm with his thumb. "It didn't knock me out. I am fine. Really. Maybe a concussion."

After a moment she nodded, turning her attention from his head to his arm. "And this is broken?" She gently picked it up and studied it.

"Are you a doctor now?"

"I am just concerned," she snapped.

He sighed. "I think so. I can't tell in this light. It hurts. I know that." He coughed out the last part as more dust tickled his throat.

She crawled closer, straddling his legs, and held the jacket up for him, rubbing his back. That felt nice, even though the coughing fit. He let his head tip against hers as the coughing subsided.

"Breathe," she gently urged, running her hand up and down his back.

His phone rang out.

"Answer it," he murmured.

She fished it from his pocket. "Gibbs again," she told him, "Yes?" she answered. "He is coughing from the dust…Oh! How is he?" she asked.

"Who?" Tony demanded. "Put the speaker on."

"They found McGee," Ziva told him as she pressed tapped the screen.

"How is he?" Tony asked Gibbs.

"Cut up pretty bad. He's on his way to the hospital. He was out for a while. Just coming to when they found him…" Gibbs hesitated for a minute. "Ducky's had a heart attack."

"What?" Tony asked.

"Oh no!" Ziva exclaimed at the same time.

"Palmer was coming to get him to come back—watched him hit the sand, and rushed over."

"How is he?" Ziva asked.

"Critical," Gibbs told them, "He was on his way to the hospital when Palmer called me—Palmer'd been doing CPR until the paramedics got there. Ducky had been on the phone with the Director when it happened."

"The news—oh.." Ziva choked.

Tony wrapped his good arm tightly around her waist, and she crumpled into him. He steeled himself, showing no sign of pain as she pressed against his bad arm. He slid it out, and took the phone from her hand, taking it off speaker to allow her to cry somewhat more privately. "Keep us posted, boss," Tony said.

"They're dealing with the critical out here first thing. You two hang tight. Take care of her—"

"Always—"

"I know," Gibbs acknowledged. "They'll get to you two soon."

Tony hung up and set the phone on the floor beside him, wrapping both arms around his crying partner, blinking back wetness in his own eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

_PREVIOUSLY: Tony hung up and set the phone on the floor beside him, wrapping both arms around his crying partner, blinking back wetness in his own eyes._

Ziva shuddered in his arms, burying her head against his neck. He rubbed her back with the heel of his good arm, keeping the aching one loosely draped around her waist. God, this was breaking his heart. He knew that there weren't any words that could make her feel better right now. Ziva wasn't one for vague words of comfort. She needed something more concrete, so he held her tight and kissed the top of her head, her cheek, her neck.

Ziva had an iron grip on his back, a fistful of shirt and skin. It gradually relaxed, and she sniffed hard, pulling her head away from his neck and resting her forehead on his once again. She was matching her breath to the pace of his hand running up and down her back as she tried to calm herself, so he kept it steady. They sat like this for a while, without speaking.

After a bit, she sat back on his thighs, letting her head fall away from his. He cupped her cheek, looking at her closely. Surprisingly, she let him. Under her eyes was still wet and blotchy, and he wiped them dry with his sleeve

"That will stain," she told him, in reference to her mascara now pooling under her eyes.

"Yeah, cause that's what I care about right now," he chuckled. "How are _you_?"

"A mess," she grumbled, looking away.

"Hey," he touched her cheek. She fought this effort to make her look up at him. "Don't get mad at yourself. This is all upsetting."

"I hate—"

"I know," he told her. He kissed her forehead softly, letting his lips linger on her skin.

She leaned into it. Her hands were now resting flat on his chest. "I know you know."

Tony became aware that the fingers on his bad hand were grazing the bare skin between the hem of her shirt and the top of her slacks. Funny how that didn't seem to hurt. He wasn't sure when his hand had settled there on her back. She didn't seem to mind, in fact she was purring softly.

"That feels nice," she told him.

"Yeah?" he asked huskily.

There was chaos all around them, but in the enclosure of the elevator, suddenly all Tony could focus on was the fact that she was straddling him, and the warmth of her skin against his hand. It almost felt wrong—given everything else—how turned on he was getting.

"Mmmhmm," she murmured tipping her head up, lips grazing his.

She settled, her face level with his, looking him in the eyes. Their lips were so close… He swallowed hard. She chuckled in response, her breath hot against his face. God. Her fingers grazed up and down his chest while her palms remained planted. His eyes drifted closed as her hands slid up his chest to around his neck, and he let out a deep growl. This earned him another evil chuckle. She knew exactly the effect she was having on him. She slid closer on his lap and he gasped. And if somehow she didn't know it before, she now _felt_ the effect she was having on him, that was sure.

A moment later, her lips were on his. This startled his eyes open, though he eagerly kissed her back. It wasn't a gentle kiss. Maybe it was the circumstances, but they hungered for each other. They could not be close enough. Ziva's hands threaded up into his hair, pulling gently. Instinctively, she knew what he liked. His own hands slid further up the back of her shirt along the warm, smooth skin. They continued like this for…he lost track of how long, blocking out the shaken world around them.

Somewhere in their lust-addled subconscious they knew that they couldn't take it any further here in the elevator. Not now. They finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavy. After a moment of this, Ziva sat back on his thighs. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as she looked questioningly at him. They had to talk about this. There was no way they could just let this be. He didn't want to. And he was pretty sure she didn't either.

"So…" he began.

"Yeah…"

They were both at a loss for where exactly to start.

There was a whoosh and a thud above them, and they both startled, looking up at the broken ceiling. He shielded her head, but nothing fell. A beam of light methodically illuminated the wreckage above them.

"Hello!" a deep male voice called down into the elevator shaft. "How many people are in the elevator?"

"Two!" Ziva called up to him squinting upwards.

"Injuries?" he asked, continuing his examination with the flashlight.

"Minor," Tony answered.

"Nature of those injuries, sir?"

"Maybe a broken arm, broken ribs."

"All right, we've got some serious injuries up here on Floor 2. The mechanics here look structurally sound. You two hang tight. We will get y'all out as soon as we can."

"Thanks!" Tony called back at the guy.

Ziva was still looking up at the now-dark ceiling. He fought back thoughts at how appetizing her neck looked as she craned upward. "It does not look particularly structurally sound…"

"No, sure doesn't," Tony sighed. "I guess the superficial damage looks worse than it is?"

"Hmph," Ziva grumbled.

"In the scheme of things…we're lucky," he said, taking her hand.

"I know," she sighed, settling back down onto his thighs. "I know."


	4. Chapter 4

_PREVIOUSLY: "All right, we've got some serious injuries up here on Floor 2. The mechanics here look structurally sound. You two hang tight. We will get y'all out as soon as we can." _

Now that the second floor doors to the elevator shaft had been pried open, they had a bit more light. This also brought a lot more noise as the chaos of the emergency response above trickled into their enclosure. There was shouting and sirens filling the air. Ziva sat back on his thighs, and winced as she sat back on his thighs.

"What?" he asked, concerned. Had he accidentally hurt her injuries while they were making out?

She patted his cheek with a smile, sensing the path his thoughts were taking. "My knees," she told him. "From sitting like this too long." She climbed off his lap, sitting on the floor and laying back, head on his lap.

"One of the joys of getting older…not that twenty-nine is old," he backpedaled quickly, heading off any protest. "But those aches and pains do sneak up on you." He smiled down at her on his lap.

"I have noticed," she sighed.

His hands settled, the good one toying with her hair, the aching one on her stomach. His hand traced a half moon pattern on the fabric of her thin black shirt. She purred softly, eyes drifting shut for a moment.

"That arm is not bothering you as much anymore, " she noted eyes still closed. "It has been awfully busy…" She opened her eyes and looked up at him with a smirk.

He continued to graze her stomach with his fingertips as he shrugged in response. "Dull ache."

"Please do not injure yourself further," she lectured, stilling his hand with both of hers.

"I don't think it's broken."

"Why?"

"I don't know. I can move it too much. If it were broken, I don't think I'd be able to."

"You should let a doctor tell you that."

"Look who's talking," he snorted. Her gaze narrowed. "Miss I-always-think-I'm-fine."

She sighed in exasperation. "All I am saying is that if it hurts, you should not move it so much."

"I doesn't hurt that much," he told her, before asking carefully, "You don't like it when I…?"

"That's not what I'm saying," she told him.

"Okay…" He didn't really want to stop touching her.

"It's not," she assured him. After a moment she added, "Let it heal first."

Huh. "So you're saying that sometime in the future , when my wrist heals, I'll still be able to touch you, maybe? And this isn't a we're-trapped-in-the-elevator thing?"

She paused for a moment, and his heart sank with each ticking second, but then she answered, "I think that is what I'm saying."

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah…" she smiled softly. "I have enjoyed this."

"Me too," he agreed eagerly. The memory of her pressed up to him against the wall of the elevator played again in his brain.

She chuckled.

"What?" he demanded.

"You have this silly smile on your face when you think about it."

"It's a nice memory," he insisted.

"Not just a memory," she ammended.

This was really happening. Tony's mind spun as there was a comfortable silence in their conversation for a while. It was far from silent though. The sirens were an ever present reminder of the disaster outside—and that their post-making out haze did not exist outside the confines of the elevator.

"This is all a little surreal," Tony said after a while.

"This?" Ziva asked, gesturing the two of them, "Or, _this_?" she asked, gesturing the implied chaos around them.

"Well, both," he sighed. "_This_", gesturing around them, "I think is the spark for _this_," He gestured them.

"The spark, yes," Ziva agreed, sitting up facing him cross-legged. "We have needed a spark for some time." He looked at her curiously. She was looking right at him. "We have," she repeated.

"We've been comfortable for a while."

"Good friends," she declared.

"Yeah…I've been afraid to ruin that."

"Me too," she said quietly. "But we…" she paused, searching for what she wanted to say, and not finding it.

"We have also been …pretending…that being friends is enough," he added.

"It's not," she said.

"No, it's not," he agreed. "I've realized this recently."

"Number 26 on your bucket list."

"His eyes widened. "You remember that?"

"How could I forget?"

"That was months ago."

"Not that long," she argued.

"November."

"It was huge," she told him.

"You weren't supposed to see that."

"I did, though."

"You stole it," he smiled. "From my desk."

"I did," she affirmed. "_This _ is what you meant by 'tell her', yes?"

"Yeah," he grinned. "I never really thought about the 'telling' being non-verbal though…"

"Well, the non-verbal part was easier," she chuckled.

"Sure was," he smiled.

"It is a little trickier to actually find the right words."

He nodded. At least they were both laughing about not being able to articulate their feelings.

Ziva pushed herself up to her knees facing him. "We could always practice the non-verbal," she smirked.

"I like that idea." He tugged her waist with his good arm and she squealed in surprise as their lips met. Non-verbal was always easier.


End file.
